November 21, 2007 |

I’d like to report that the Brothers Unger are looking forward to the holiday tomorrow but, with the exception of the fact that Andrew likes any excuse to eat an outrageous amount of food and I enjoy several pre, during and post turkey libations, we’re pretty convinced that Thanksgiving might be the worst holiday of the year.

For starters, you’re forced to spend time with your family. Sure in the commercials it all just looks so dandy, doesn’t it? Hugs and smiles for relatives you haven’t seen in forever. And then you smell Uncle Jimmy and you remember why you don’t get out to see him much. Granted, for the occasion, he’s put on a brand new shirt and might’ve even sprinkled some Old Spice in all the appropriate places but he still smells like a dead guy.

And let’s talk about the food for a moment. Is turkey really THAT good? Yes, it can be. Provided it’s perfectly cooked. And I mean perfectly. You need a team of Nobel Prize winning scientists working around the clock to make sure it doesn’t dry out. Unfortunately, in our household, all we had was our mother whose Thanksgiving Day ritual usually included swigging vodka and orange juice and then passing out in front of the television just after saying "look kids, there’s Underdog!"

And, by the way, why do we have parades on Thanksgiving? What the hell are we celebrating anyway? That a bunch of uptight, British religious freaks who found Christianity too "liberal" decided to hop on a boat and sail to the New World bringing gifts of whiskey, guns and small pox to a group of Indians so sophisticated some of them were actually eating each other?

Oh and what are we giving thanks for? The fact that we have food on the table? Of course we have food! Most of us have food every day. Maybe we’re giving thanks for the fact that food in our country is so plentiful we can afford to serve some culinary nightmare called cranberry sauce and then NOT eat it. Oh, and if you’re someone who likes the cranberry sauce, you’re a freak who probably needs mental care. It tastes like stale jello. It’s not a food, it’s a garnish that jiggles.

Now, onto the traditional football watching part of the day. By applause, how many of you have ever been allowed to watch an entire NFL game on Thanksgiving? Not a chance. There’s always some cousin who has to tell you about his latest real estate scam or an aunt who demands you switch the channel because her bratty nine year old just has to watch "The Animal Planet" for a school project he’s doing on the mating habits of gazelles and since he’s such a smart little boy and Aunt Jessica is just SO damn positive the little loser’s going to make it into Harvard before his fifteenth birthday, you have to give up the remote just while the Cowboys are driving with no timeouts, down by a field goal.

And, of course, you have money on the game but you can’t tell your wife that because you promised her you’d stop blowing your money on gambling but meanwhile it’s okay for her to go shopping tomorrow because it’s Black Friday and so you have to get up at 3am to drive with her to the mall where you’ll be stuck in a line longer than the one at a hospital emergency room on a busy Saturday night all so she can save a whopping 99 cents on that "AB BLASTER" she’ll never use to reduce that bloated stomach of hers which is part of the reason why you can’t stop fantasizing about boinking your son Billy’s remedial reading teacher.

With luck, maybe you’ll have an aneurysm tonight and die peacefully in your sleep so you don’t have to go through it all again tomorrow. If not…